


As The Poets Say

by Jackson_Overland_Frost



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Captain America: Civil War, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I only tagged people with speaking roles, M/M, One (1) Fight Scene, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Secret Identity, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, but modern royalty AU, but no conflict in this fic lol :), idk presumably, kinda??, so I thought I ought to tag it, theres a scene I basically transcribed (with internal commentary) from that movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26856634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackson_Overland_Frost/pseuds/Jackson_Overland_Frost
Summary: Peter comes home from school and Tony Stark, King Tony Stark, Tony Stark the King Of The Country (!) is in his living room talking to his aunt. Turns out the King’s son is in need of a bodyguard, and Peter is getting scouted for the job.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Harley Keener/Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 9
Kudos: 213





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MayWilder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayWilder/gifts).



> Happy Birthday May!! You’re lovely and I adore you so take this as an apology for the fact that I’m not reading “over the sea, to skye”

[QUEENS, NEW YORK]

Tired out from school, Peter bobbed his head to the music coming in through his earbuds as he unlocked the door to the apartment. There had been a reasonably intact DVD player in a dumpster he had walked past, and he was eager to see whether or not he could fix it up back into working condition, and hopefully then some. If he could, the thing would actually be a decent upgrade. 

“Hi May,” he called as he walked in the door, still lost in thought. Peter slung his backpack onto one of the chairs at the dinner table, set the DVD player down with a good deal more care, and headed into the kitchen, completely missing the extra person in the room. 

“Hey,” May said. “How was school today?” 

“Okay.” Peter glanced out the window, suddenly remembering the freaking  _ limousine  _ that had been parked outside the apartment building. “There’s this  _ crazy _ car parked outside….” Peter’s voice trailed off and his eyes widened as he finally registered the man sitting on the couch next to his aunt, casually eating a slice of her fig bread. 

King. Stark. The king, Tony Stark. King Tony Stark was sitting on his couch, in his apartment, next to his aunt May, eating a slice of May’s fig bread. Stark turned around casually, making a tsk sound. 

“Oh, Mister Parker,” he said, casual as anything. 

“Um??” Peter took his earbuds out, not totally sure whether or not he was hallucinating. “Wha— what? What are you— h _ ey _ , um, I uh, I’m— I’m Peter,” he stuttered, managing a short bow. 

“Tony,” said the king. The  _ king _ . Of the  _ country _ . Who was  _ sitting in his living room _ . 

“What are you— what. What are you… doing here?”

“It’s about time we met,” King Sta—  _ Tony _ — no no, that was  _ way _ too casual. Mr. Stark then. He turned to May with wide eyes, only for her to mouth something back that he didn’t quite catch. 

“You got my emails, right?” Mr. Stark said, as if Peter had the faintest idea as to what he was talking about. And then the king winked twice, once with each of his eyes. “ _ Right? _ ”

“...yeah, yeah. Regarding the…?” 

“You didn’t even tell me about the grant,” May said mildly, in a way that Peter knew meant she was either astounded or pissed. He resisted the urge to say ‘well nobody sure told  _ ME _ about the grant?!’. 

“...about the grant,” Peter repeated. 

“The September Foundation,” Mr. Stark said, barely managing to not raise even  _ more _ questions. 

“Right,” he agreed. 

“Yeah. Remember when you applied?” Okay, that was a little bit more helpful. 

“Yeah?” Peter agreed again, a bit more hesitantly. Sue him, this was a lot to take in. And the king was asking him to lie to his aunt. Um???

“I approved,” Mr. Stark said and May threw her hands out in a  _ so-how-about-that _ kind of motion. “So now we’re in business.”

“You didn’t tell me anything, what’s up with that?” May asked quietly. “You keeping secrets from me, or—” 

“No, I just— just know how much you love… surprises, so I thought, you know… well…” so, technically Peter  _ was _ keeping secrets, but not…  _ This _ . “So, what did I apply for…?

“That’s what I’m here to answer,” Mr. Stark said, before Peter could ramble out something too incriminating. And then, immediately turning and gesturing towards Aunt May: “It’s  _ so _ hard for me to believe that she’s someone’s aunt.” 

May let out a vaguely uncomfortable giggle. “We come in all shapes and sizes, you know.” 

“This walnut-date loaf is… exceptional.”

Peter’s eyes darted back and forth between May and the  _ king _ (he still hadn’t gotten over that one) suspiciously. “I’m going to stop you there — does this grant have like, money involved, or whatever? No? Yeah?”

“I mean, yeah, it’s pretty well funded,” Mr. Stark spoke over him. 

“Wow—”

“Look who your talking to,” said  _ King Stark _ , and yeah, how could Peter forget. The guy was wearing a fucking gold crown in his hair, and though the thing wasn’t as elaborate as the ones that the king wore to like, press conferences and stuff, it was still very much  _ there _ . Peter took a grounding breath. “Can I have five minutes with him?”

“Sure,” May told him. 

The two retreated back to Peter’s bedroom, and once the door was shut behind them, Peter immediately rounded on the king. 

“I definitely did not apply for your grant—” he started, but Mr. Stark cut him off. 

“Nah ah, me first,” he said loudly, and pulled out his phone and protected a hologram into the air, playing a short video of. 

Oh. 

Oh  _ no _ . 

“A quick question of the… rhetorical variety — that’s  _ you _ , right?” 

The video was a clip, probably from a security camera mounted on a wall somewhere. It showed some guy in a red and blue suit and a fabric mask over his face, swim goggles over his eyes. He was swinging across the street on a sort of web, and there was a black spider emblem on the guy’s hoodie. The emblem was almost an exact replica of Peter’s soulmark, stylized a little bit, sure, but Peter had wanted to show it off  _ somehow _ , since the little thing was so shy. But you know, the guy in question was definitely  _ not _ Peter, nope, not at all. 

“Um, no, what are you, what are—” Peter scrambled. 

“Yeah.” The projection switched to another short clip, same style. Some sort of security feed. “Look at you go — wow, nice catch, three  _ thousand _ pounds, forty miles an hour? It’s not easy. You got mad skills.” The projection disappeared along with Mr. Stark’s phone, back into his pocket. 

“That’s uh, that’s all on YouTube though right?” Peter said frantically, stalking towards his laptop. “I mean, that’s where you found that. ‘Cause you know that’s all fake, it’s all done on a computer.”

“Mmhmm,” Mr. Stark hummed, but Peter ignored it in favor of continuing to ramble out excuses. 

But then — “yeah yeah yeah, you mean like those UFOs over Phoenix?” Peter was asked, another rhetorical, before a distinctive squeak of hinges was heard from his ceiling. “Wup, what do we have here?”

Peter darted over, grabbing for his suit before the king could get a good look at it, and stood in the doorway of his closet with it hidden behind his back as casually as he could. He had been rumbled.

“So. You’re the spider...ling. Crime-fighting spider. You’re spiderboy?”

He crossed his arms, looking away. Eye contact was his enemy. “It… it’s Spider-Man,” he mumbled. 

“Not in that onesie you’re not,” Mr. Stark said bluntly, and he was right, but  _ hey _ . 

“It’s not a  _ onesie _ ,” he protested. “Can barely believe I was actually having a really good day today, you know, Mr. Stark. Didn’t miss my train, this perfectly good DVD player was just sitting there, and. Algebra test.  _ Nailed it _ .”

“Who else knows?” Asked the king, who didn’t mention his blatant disrespect. Good, because the  _ really _ disrespectful thing was showing up at his apartment, flirting with Aunt May, and immediately ripping apart his secret identity. 

“Nobody.” Or at least nobody he had told. Who else had figured it out the way Mr. Stark had, Peter had no idea. 

“Not even your… unusually attractive aunt?

Disres _ pect _ . “ _ No _ ,” he said. “No, no, no no. If she knew she would  _ freak _ out. And when she freaks out I freak out…” 

“You know what I think is really cool?” Mr. Stark asked. Another rhetorical. The guy’s favorite device was obvious. He tossed a canister of Peter’s web fluid at him, his spider-sense catching it before it was even registered by his brain. “This webbing. The tensile strength is  _ off the charts _ . Who manufactured that?” 

“I did.”  _ Because we don’t all have servants and factories and people we can order to make our web fluid for us, your majesty.  _ He threw it back into his closet with a frown. 

“Climbing walls? How’re you doing that, adhesive gloves?”

“It’s uh, a long story.” A traumatic one too. 

King Stark continued with his teasing banter, almost as if he was trying to make Peter loosen up, and wasn’t that a laugh and a half. And here he had been, trying to fly under the radar. And then — “you’re in desperate need of an upgrade, that’s why I’m here,” and “what gets you out of that twin bed in the morning?” It was a lot. 

“How old are you — you need a job permit still or you good? If you’re too lazy to get a permit we can just do this illegally, I’m the King they can’t arrest me.”

“I’m seventeen,” he answered without thinking, and then— “Wait, what?” Peter asked, turning to Mr. Stark with wide eyes. 

“Have you ever been down to the palace before? You’ll love it, it’s beautiful. I would know, I live there.”

“What— what are you talking about? Huh??”

He stood up from Peter’s bed. “I’m hiring you, kid. You’re smart, you’re young, your powers don’t come from a fancy suit. Nothing wrong with the Iron Man suit, I’m just telling it how I see it.” Mr. Stark sighed. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the assassination-slash-kidnapping attempt on the crown prince last week. That’s my kid, and he needs protection. That doesn’t come from a fancy suit, because I’m not making him one of those. Goodness knows he’d just go out and fight crime like an idiot.”

“Like me,” Peter said. It wasn’t a question. 

“Good, you’re catching on,” came the answer. “Harley would hate me forever if I made some buff thirty-five year old follow him around, and none of them can do what you can. You’re the same age as him, nerdy enough to keep up, and you have one of those faces that’ll make Harley give you a chance to prove yourself, anti-protection as he might be.”

“And I have  _ what _ ? W— and uh, what? And I’m getting, I’m getting… money? For that?” There was a burst of warmth on his lower back, and he scratched the skin there lightly — his soulmark was back, at least. Whenever his soulmark showed up, it sort of felt like someone’s warm hand touching his skin after he had just been patrolling for ages, and his skin was cold. He willed it to stay under his clothing for now. 

“It’s a job, Mister Parker. That is, in fact, how jobs work.”

-=-=-=-

Harley Keener had never been afraid of spiders. He had come into the world with a spider on his skin — a pitch black, abstract looking one, sure, but a spider was a spider. It had that scuttling walk, you know, with the legs and all? Some of his friends from when he was little were a bit scared of his soul mark, but nobody bothered him about it because he was royalty. And because the spider was the shyest, sweetest little creature, but mostly because of the royalty thing. 

Being the crown prince really did have its perks, but it was hard to remember that a week after the second threat on his life since the start of the month. It was another organized group, though thankfully it wasn’t homophobes shitting on him for not being able to produce a legitimate heir again. It was nazis. Not better by any accounts, but at least it wasn’t personal. 

And now he was stuck in his room while his dad charged yet another guy with treason, being a nazi, so on and so forth. If one more assassin showed up and put him under house arrest, Harley was going to crack and make his own nano-tech suit. Like, they tried, they failed, they tried again, we get it okay guys? You’re nazis. Now scram. 

It wasn’t like Harley didn’t like his bedroom, or anything. It was comfortable and large, he had picked out the decorations himself, and there was no  _ real _ shortage of things to do. It was just… boring in there. Stuffy, since he couldn’t even open a window. Frustrating. 

He shivered as his soul mark reappeared on his fingertips and crawled up his arm before settling in it’s favorite place right between his shoulder blades. Harley reached up to pet it gently, though there was no textural difference between the spider and the rest of his skin, and he was fairly sure the mark couldn’t actually feel it. It was the thought that counted. When his soul mark returned to him, it felt kind of like being touched with a cold spoon before the feeling faded. A bit of a jolt at 2:00AM, sure, but it was nice to keep track of the little guy. 

Absently, Harley wondered what Spider-Man was up to. He had first come across the guy thanks to the YouTube algorithm giving him a random compilation of the vigilante’s most impressive feats, both of strength and acrobatics. When he saw Spider-Man’s suit, Harley had taken a double take. And then a triple take. And then researched obsessively in search of a clearer picture. 

To his surprise and pleasure, the symbol of Spider-Man was, in fact, a near-perfect match to the soul mark resting on his back. His soulmate was out there, doing exactly what Harley wished he could have been if only he had a suit, and looked beautiful and bad-ass as he did so. 

Well, maybe he was a little bit biased. Harley’s soulmate needed a  _ serious _ suit upgrade. 

And you know, once they met for real, Harley would be happy to design him one. A really sweet suit, with nanotech armor to protect him in battle and golden spider legs that made him look  _ awesome _ . And of course, the emblem of their soul mark featured proudly in the middle. He already had blueprints in the lab. 

There was a sharp knock at his bedroom door, jostling Harley out of his daydreams. He hopped off his chair to standing, grabbing a knife off his nightstand on his way to the door and holding it carefully in front of him. Agent Natasha had  _ insisted _ , and who said it wouldn’t come in useful sometimes. Who could it be… his dad had gone out earlier on business, it wasn’t close to any meal time so there was no reason for anyone else to be at the door…

The door opened to the soft brown doe-eyes of a cute boy, and Harley instantly wished he had combed his hair a little more thoroughly. He took a stop back, realized his dad was there too, and let the knife fall to his side. 

“Uh, hi?” Harley uttered, very aware that he was wearing an old band tee and sweatpants in preparation for his stay in his room. While comfortable, they were also potentially the least princely thing he could have been wearing, especially compared to the cute guy in a blazer and button-up. 

“Hey Harley,” his dad said, stepping forward and shooting him a grin. “As your prison warden, I’m proud to announce that you’re allowed to leave your cell now! Given that you befriend mister Parker and let him follow you around for protection, of course.”

“What?” Harley took a second look at, uh, ‘Mister Parker’, re-registering the toned muscles, but also the inherent scrawny-ness of the dude. “Wait,  _ him _ ? Old man, I have so many questions.”

“Unless you would rather not leave your room until every HYDRA base has been cleared, I’m afraid you’re not getting answers. Figured you’d prefer him to some middle-aged retired wrestler.” 

Harley stared at his dad, mouth agape, but he was just stared back at blankly until he shrugged and gave up. “Uhh, alright then, I guess.” He shoved his hand out towards the boy, who was apparently his new bodyguard, with his most charming smile. At least the guy was his age, and could probably be convinced not to be a snitch. “Hey darlin’, my name’s Harley, though I’m sure you already know that. You?”

“I’m… Peter, your highness. Peter Parker.” Peter shook his hand light as a feather, and Harley could have sworn his palm was a little bit sticky. He supposed the guy was meeting royalty though, so he couldn’t fault him for being nervous. Harley also couldn’t help but notice the strange silver bracelets that Peter wore on both wrists, but he supposed they suited the boy. Honestly, the soft vibes this guy was giving off were truly insane. 

“You gonna protect me real nice, Peter?” Harley teased, fluttering his eyelashes, and was  _ delighted _ when a blush rose up high on Peter’s cheekbones. 

“Um, yes, your highness. That’s my job.” 

“Oh shove it with that ‘your highness’ stuff. Just Harley will do fine, and Prince Harley if you’re feeling formal.”

“Okay, okay, I don’t need to see this.” His dad waved a hand through the air and backed away. “Pete’s been vetted and he’s perfectly competent, so you’re officially allowed out. I’ll go let everyone know.”

“Thank you Mr. Stark, see you later,” Peter said, as polite as anything.

A flash of movement in the corner of Harley’s vision caught his eye, and he brought his hand up to see his soul mark crawling up to rest on the back of his hand. Unusual — it didn’t usually come out around strangers, but maybe that was a good indication of Peter being a good person. When Harley looked back up however, his new bodyguard looked stricken. 

“What’s up, Peter?” He asked, a smidge concerned. 

“No-nothing, just noticing your soul mark for the first time, Prince Harley.”

“Are you afraid of spiders or something?” Harley asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m not, I just thought your soul mark looked familiar, or something,” Peter told him, linking his hands together behind his back. Harley supposed that was reasonable, if Peter had met Spider-Man or something before. “Sorry, Prince Harley.”

“No worries,” Harley said, brushing off Peter’s apology with a gesture. “It’s not like it’s my mark only, after all. Have you heard of the superhero Spider-Man, by chance?” 

“...yes, Prince Harley, though I was under the impression that he was simply a vigilante,” Peter answered, obviously hesitant. “His patrol route takes him near my apartment in Queens, so I’ve seen him around a few times, though we’ve never interacted. Why?” 

Harley smiled fondly down at his soulmark as it crawled up his fingertips and vanished, traveling to his other half. “He’s my soulmate — my soulmark is his emblem, which explains why you found it familiar. I’ve never met him, since you can imagine how hard it would be to contact someone who wears a mask and barely comes around here, but I know it’s true. I can feel it, you know. Have you met your soulmate yet, Peter?”

There was a pause. “I have, Prince Harley, but only recently. We don’t know each other very well yet. Is there anywhere you’d like for me to take you?”

“You okay with going out today? I’ve been stuck inside for  _ ages _ and I really need to get out and about… after I change that is. Do you want to come inside, or wait out in the hallway?”

Peter blushed again — boy was he fun to rile up — and stepped away from the door. “I’ll just wait out here, Prince Harley.”

-=-=-=-

There were a few reasons why Peter had chosen not to go into Harley’s bedroom while his new charge changed. The first was that it was  _ extremely _ unprofessional, to go into the Prince’s bedroom, of all places. He resolved, silently, to never step foot in there if he could help it. 

Secondly, Prince Harley was Peter’s  _ soulmate _ . And he had flirted with Peter without even knowing, and  _ still _ didn’t know. Their soulmark had appeared on his own fingertips and crawled up to his sternum, right where the emblem on his suit was. He still wasn’t sure whether or not using his own soulmark as his icon was a mistake or not. Really, Peter wasn’t sure what to think of Prince Harley quite yet, so unless the spider did something for him, Peter elected to keep the soulmate thing to himself too. Secret identities were  _ important _ , and soulmates didn’t work out for everyone. 

Which brought him to the third reason: Prince Harley was fucking gorgeous. All freckles on pale skin and bright sky blue eyes, seeping with the confidence and authority of royalty even with no physical indication of his status. Peter really just needed to bisexual panic for a couple minutes by himself in the hallways, and get over himself a bit. 

When Harley opened the door again, he was dressed for public appearance in black jeans and a teal button up — not quite the three-piece Armani suits the king tended towards, but probably more expensive than Peter’s entire apartment. The color made his eyes shine, and a golden circlet rested in the prince’s slicked-back hair. Peter’s minutes of calming breaths were pretty much for nothing. 

“Right, I’m good to go!” Harley called out, a grin already fixed on his face. He started down the hall and Peter followed just a half step behind, letting his guard slightly down within the palace. His spider-sense was certain to warn him of any danger to the prince anyways. 

“Where are we going, Prince Harley?” Peter asked, curious. 

“I’m not telling you if you don’t calm it with the whole ‘Prince Harley’ thing.” Harley quirked an eyebrow at him. “Seriously dude, just my name is fine. If we’re going to be spending all this time together, you don’t need to be so formal.”

“Respectfully, Prince Harley, it’s really not all that much time. You have classes during the day, during which you are already well protected, and I don’t arrive at the palace until after school. I’m just being professional,” Peter answered. 

“Sure, but if you’re being paid to hang out with me, we’ll end up being friends just by proximity.”

“Alright, Pri— Harley,” he conceded. “Now will you tell me where you’re going?”

Harley shrugged. “I have no idea. Frankly I was just going to wander around the city and maybe stop for some coffee at whatever’s nearest and looks good. Any recommendations?” 

“Um???” Peter had been tricked, and he didn’t quite know how to feel about it. He was almost tempted to take the prince somewhere bad, just to get him back, but you know. Power dynamics. He didn’t want to risk anything with the king. “For coffee, or?” 

“Anything’s fine. I want to get to know you, so whatever you like — I’m just trying to get out of the house.”

“Oh…. sure, I know a nice coffee shop, but it’s not very close by, sorry.” The coffee shop Peter was thinking of wasn’t somewhere he frequented often, since it was sort of expensive and you couldn’t stick around unless you bought something. It was more a place to go on special occasions for him and May. Still, he figured a prince of all people wouldn’t mind the price tag, and it wasn’t like Peter could bring him to Delmar’s, or the churro stand on 5th ave.

“I don’t mind at all, we can walk.” Harley slowed down so that they were walking side by side, despite Peter’s awkwardness. “You lead the way then, darlin’.” 

-=-=-=-

That night during his patrol, Peter strayed far out of his normal route within Queens, opting instead to head further downtown. He had to take the king’s new suit for a test drive somehow, didn’t he? Though he made pit stops to web up a few surprised criminals on the way, his path stayed true as he swung towards the palace grounds. He didn’t quite know what led him there — scratch that, Peter knew perfectly why. Still, he had never thought the soul bond would be strong enough to physically draw him towards Harley. 

During their entire outing, their spider had either stayed away from any of Peter’s visible skin, or just stuck to Harley. Perhaps it was a little bit selfish, but Peter was grateful he had been able to keep his identity to himself, enamoured as he was with the prince. Speaking of, Harley was simply captivating. He managed to sneak a flirt into every other sentence while still staying respectful, and when he wasn’t flirting, matched Peter thought for thought as they began to discuss Harley’s ongoing projects. The prince had his very own lab, equipment Peter could only dream of, and came up with things even Peter had to work to keep up with. He had paid for Peter’s coffee with a grin, thanking him for the conversation, and Peter was smitten. 

On that thought, Peter swung past Harley’s window of the palace. Soulmates or not, Spider-Man wasn’t a creep, so Peter resisted the urge to look inside. Still, his spider sense defected someone watching him, and his soul bond told him that it was Harley. Peter could have even sworn he saw the prince looking out the window, but it might have just been wishful thinking. 

Peter caught a web on one of the towers bordering the palace, not particularly thinking about what he was doing, and within a few swings he landed on the roof. He sat down lightly on the edge, letting his legs swing off into the open air below, and looked out at the glowing lights of the city. 

His whole life, Peter had been excited to meet his soulmate. That was probably one of the reasons that he had made his soulmark into Spider-Man’s emblem — in the hopes that his soulmate would find him. And… it had worked, in the end. But still, despite his excitement, it wasn’t like he had never heard the stories. Soulmates that didn’t work out, in the end. People who’s soulmate betrayed them. By nature, soulmates were perfectly compatible, meant to be together, paired off by fate, and so on. Two halves of the same soul, and all that, though science didn’t have much of an explanation for it yet. Still, lives and motives were not always as compatible as souls were. 

Or maybe Peter was just trying to excuse the fact that he hadn’t revealed himself to Harley yet. He knew that he was free to — King Stark had said outright that it was his choice whether or not Peter did so. Harley was kind, and lovely, and completely convinced that Spider-Man was his soulmate. There was absolutely no reason that Peter shouldn’t be able to tell him! If he felt safe enough to have a crush on the prince, why not reveal his secret identity as well?

The hair on the back of his neck stood up, making Peter shiver, and he could just about hear the soft sound of footsteps coming up the staircase to the roof access. Peter didn’t move a muscle until Harley was already opening the door, but the prince only barely caught Spider-Man swinging away. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Different chapters are basically like bigger section breaks for me, but I’m posting these both at once.

The next week, Mr. Stark finally told Peter about his plans to hold a sort of formal gala, in order to secure friendships with a few other nations. With HYDRA trying to assassinate the prince and the king not  _ quite _ married yet, things were rather unstable, and they needed loyalties to be formed as quickly as possible. Preferably to King Stark himself. 

Wakandan royalty was already in the country, so of course the two families had to stage a sort of formal public interaction. They had already met — of course, they were staying in the palace itself, and Harley was apparently already friends with Princess Shuri — so it was really only to keep the press and public satisfied. Peter had had no idea that the way the press saw the royal family was so staged, but he supposed it made sense. 

Peter would be joining them, of course, but not in their little circle of bodyguards. He would stand out too much there, being, you know, a scrawny little high schooler in a group of professional S.H.I.E.L.D agents. Instead he was just going to accompany Harley to Times Square where the event was taking place, and then change into the spider suit to keep watch over the whole thing. 

At least the new suit was sweet as hell — boy was he glad for the upgrade. He would never be able to manage something like this on his own, especially with the multi-million dollar price tag, and Karen was a true godsend. The “training wheels protocol” was… less welcome, but with some of Ned’s help and some experimentation, Peter was happy to know exactly how to throw web-grenades at muggers. And how to not activate instant-kill mode. He was kind of afraid to try that one out, actually. 

Harley’s bedroom door was open due to how many “employees” were hurrying around (they were servants, really, but Harley hated when Peter called them that), and Peter was jerked back to the present by a yelp of pain coming from inside. With a frown already on his face, Peter spun around to investigate what was going on. One of the handmaidens was pulling a frankly sharp looking comb through Harley’s hair, while another was knelt in front of him and brushing something onto his face. 

“Uh, excuse me, um, ladies,” Peter interrupted the bustle of the room as he stood in the doorway. He saw Harley’s eyes widen at his appearance, but he tried not to look at the prince. “Might I request that you be a bit… gentler with Prince Harley? He seems like he’s… in pain.”

The lady brushing Harley’s hair didn’t even pause to look up at him. “It’s our jobs to make the prince look presentable, and you’re in no position to tell us how to do it,” she said, even as the other woman slowed her movements and nodded at him. 

“Actually, ma’am, it’s my job to protect Prince Harley and make sure he’s not in any pain. I understand that I can’t tell you how to do your job, but I do ask that you be gentler with the prince, or I will unfortunately have to report this incident to a higher-up.” Peter was genuinely apologetic, he hadn’t particularly wanted to pull that card, but the woman had been almost purposefully malicious. Also, watching people hurt Harley had been… difficult to handle already. Peter kind of wanted the conversation to continue for as little time as possible. 

With an inaudible mutter, even to Peter’s enhanced hearing, the woman returned to work, tugging at Harley’s locks with a bit less force. Harley sent him a grateful smile, which Peter returned with a nod before stepping back into the hallway. 

After another few minutes, during which Peter carefully kept his ears open for any more sounds of pain, Harley emerged from his bedroom in elaborate get-up. 

His blond hair, usually allowed to hang at around chin-length, was pinned and tied back into a little ponytail, with a few choice strands still left out to frame his face. His shirt was plain white, but the blazer Harley wore on top was dark teal and covered in all manner of silky embroidery just a shade darker in color than the cloth. Peter didn’t know fashion, but he  _ did _ know Harley. And Harley looked  _ good _ .

Harley tugged on his shirt a little bit, an expression of discomfort passing quickly over his face, before he turned back to Peter. “Hey Peter!” He said brightly. “Thanks for the help in there man, I’m pretty sure Mrs. Pim has a personal vendetta against me or something. You know you don’t… actually have to do that though, right? No need to be over protective, or anything.” 

The two started walking down the hallway together, towards one of the palace’s many more discreet exits. Peter suppressed the urge to hold Harley’s hand by shoving his own into his pockets awkwardly. “I mean, technically it is,” he started, before catching Harley’s eyes. “But yeah, I know. If there’s something I can do about it though, obviously I will. We’re friends, right? I don’t like seeing you hurt.” 

“Aww Pete~” Harley teased. “You  _ do _ care. I was getting worried.” 

Peter felt his cheeks reddening and looked away before Harley could spot them. “Don’t be rude, Harley. I’m just doing my job. Friends by proximity, right?” 

“And you were so against the idea in the beginning. I knew you would warm up to me eventually.” When Peter glanced to his side, Harley was smiling at him fondly, and he couldn’t bring himself to turn away again. “Well Peter, shall we?” 

“Let’s.” 

-=-=-=-

The assassins had come out of nowhere, and now Peter had to deal with his first real threat on duty. He could only be thankful that it hadn’t seemed like they had known Peter was at all competent, and had instead assumed that Prince Harley had done something monumentally stupid like walk to an event with regular ol’ friend his age. Thus, they had only sent two men — not terribly difficult. Peter shoved Harley into a dead-end alley and stood just inside of it, immediately pressing the emergency comm on his watch. 

“Karen, tell Mr. Stark that we’ve been attacked and will probably be late, but don’t need assistance,” Peter said quickly. 

“ _ He has been notified, Peter. _ ” 

There was a gunshot and Peter ducked low, glanced behind him to make sure it hadn’t hit Harley, who seemed to have hid in an alcove at the very back of the alleyway. Satisfied that Harley probably wouldn’t see him, Peter darted forward to web the guy to a nearby dumpster by his gun with a muffled  _ thwip _ . The other assassin took the opportunity to take a shot at him, but Peter dodged back into the depths of the alleyway. He still had to web the guy before he ran away and told his boss all about how Spider-man looked and that he was protecting the prince. First Peter stuck the man’s gun to the opposite wall, this guy not managing to hold onto it, and then his knees together, tripping him. 

A man in a business suit walked by the alley and Peter froze, hiding his wrists in his sweatshirt pocket. Thankfully the assassins either didn’t notice or also froze, because the man glanced towards them and moved on as if he hadn’t witnessed anything strange, thank goodness. Peter almost wiped the back of his hand over his forehead in a pantomime of relief. 

Then, running over, and webbing his feet to the sidewalk for good measure, Peter knocked the assassin still standing hard enough in the jaw to knock him out. Then he went over to the one still stuck to the wall and did the same with a wince. Super-strength made it easy, but not particularly pleasant. 

Eyeing them both over, Peter made sure their hands were good and webbed so that they couldn’t get themselves out, and then took pictures of both men like an Amazon delivery person bringing packages to your doorstep. With a swish of his finger, he sent them both to Happy, who would probably in turn give them to whoever the clean-up team would be. Now it wasn’t Peter’s problem anymore. 

“Karen, let Happy know that the baddies have been knocked out, and to have someone come pick them up, I guess. And tell Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts that we’ll be on our way in just a bit, once I grab Harley.”

“ _ You got it, Peter. Excellent job. _ ”

“Thanks, Karen!” 

With another grimace, Peter dissolved away all the web fluid on either assassin — what a waste, but with his secret identity, he supposed it was necessary. Thankfully, Harley didn’t back come out, even when the action seemed to be over. 

“Harley, you can come out now, it’s safe,” Peter called. No reply. “Harley?”

He jogged to the alcove, a ninety-degree indent near the end of the alleyway that Peter remembered didn’t connect to anything in particular. It seemed, however, that his eyes had passed over a loading door in the back of one of the shops, and he groaned upon finding it ajar. Either Harley was a  _ really _ competent hider, or Peter’s spider sense had missed an entire kidnapping and the two assassins with guns were just a distraction. 

Thankfully, it seemed that one of the bakery owners had found Harley looking scared outside when they went to check what the gunshots were. The baker, a buff 20-something with dark skin and a friendly smile, had hidden Harley in the back room until Peter came to pick him up. It seemed to Peter that they took one look at yet another scared, skinny seventeen year old, and immediately put Harley down in front of him. 

“Peter! Are you okay, are you hurt? I’m so  _ so  _ sorry I left you out there alone but I didn’t want to get in the way sorry if I worried you are you alright?” He asked, all in one breath, as he frantically looked Peter up and down for injuries. 

“I’m fine, Harley,” Peter reassured hastily, a little flustered from the attention. “It’s good that you got to safety first, I’m supposed to protect you, alright? They obviously didn’t know I was here, or they would have definitely sent more than two guys.”

“Yes yes, we know, you’re hyper-competent or whatever.” Harley said with a roll of his eyes. 

The baker shot him a look of confusion, and Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well, anyways, we should… get going? Or we’re going to be even later than we already are, and Ms. Potts is gonna be  _ so _ mad at us.”

“Oh man, you haven’t met Shuri yet! Come on Pete, let’s get goin’! Thank you  _ so _ much for your help.” The last part was directed at the baker as Harley pulled them both out the back door. Peter waved and shot them a small smile before he was properly yanked away. 

Once they got outside, the assassins had already been taken away — thankfully by Happy and not by HYDRA, according to Karen — with only a few strands of webbing left behind. Thankfully, Harley didn’t even notice them as the two ran out of the alleyway and back down the street. 

-=-=-=-

Still riding high off getting to talk to Shuri in person for the first time in… well, it felt like years, but in actuality they had visited Wakanda last winter? Anyways, Harley did a little twirl of glee in the hallway outside his bedroom, to Peter’s apparent amusement. Though they had only known each other for a bit over a week and a half at most, Peter already felt like one of his closest friends. Wasn’t there that study that said on average people had to spend 200 hours together before they became close friends? Yeah — no. He and Peter had sort of speed run the entire process, or something. 

Harley turned to Peter with a grin. “You know, I never thanked you for saving me out there,” he said, sidling closer. “My  _ hero _ ~”

“It  _ is _ my job, Harley,” Peter said with a shrug, a fond smile on his lips. “If I couldn’t even do that right, then why would your dad hire me.”

“Still,” Harley said with a snicker. “What kind of lady would I be if I couldn’t grant you a favour after you came to my rescue?” 

He thought for a moment, and felt around the back of his head to pull out his elastic without disrupting the pins. It was nice, silky and teal, and braided into shape rather than a solid circle. Harley couldn’t remember who had given it to him, but it was pretty enough, and made a nice trinket. “It’s no detachable sleeve,” he joked, “but you could probably put it around a jousting lance if you tried hard enough.”

Peter put the elastic around his wrist and opened his mouth to say something, when Harley’s bedroom door suddenly opened and he jumped into the other boy with a yelp. 

“Oh, Peter and Harley — just the two people I’ve been needing to talk to. I’ve been waiting here for ages, and Pepper only  _ just  _ told me that you two walked back with T’Challa?” Tony said, quirking an eyebrow. 

Thankfully, Peter had caught Harley before he could fall on the ground, but that meant that suddenly Peter’s arms were around him when he wasn’t expecting it, and was that a blush Harley could feel spreading across his face? He quickly scrambled out of Peter’s hold and clasped his hands behind his back before looking awkwardly at his dad. In his peripheral vision, he spotted Peter looking away from him, face red. Oh man, Harley really hoped he hadn’t just made their friendship super weird or something. 

“Uh… so. What’s up?” Harley asked. 

“Come in, you two,” his dad said. “I wanted to talk to you two about the gala, preferably not while standing in the hallway.” He held open the door, and they all filed into Harley’s bedroom. Harley sat on his bed, his dad on one of the chair, and Peter leaned against the dresser and refused a seat when it was offered to him. 

“I’m fine, thanks,” he said. “You can sit there though, Mr. Stark.”

“Thank you, Peter.” His dad settled back in his seat with a sigh. “Okay, I’m really sorry to be doing this to you kids, but we’re going to need you two to go to the gala together.”

Harley glanced over at Peter, and they made eye contact. He quirked an eyebrow and Peter shrugged back, like  _ yeah, I don’t know either.  _

“Weren’t we going together… anyways?” He asked. “Peter’s like, my guard and stuff. He’s supposed to be around me at events.” 

“No, I mean,  _ together _ together. What saved you today was that nobody knew Peter was your guard, so we can’t have him wear the standard uniform at the gala. We already weren’t doing that, but you know, Happy says he needs a reason to be there and so on.” He sighed again — his dad had been sighing a lot for some reason. “My point is, you two will have to dance together. Act like you’re close enough for Peter to have been invited to something supposedly nobles and press only and then, once there, stick close to each other the whole time.” 

“Umm??” Peter asked. 

His dad waved a hand through the air, exasperated. “Act like you’re on a date.” 

Harley turned to Peter, hoping for some more mutually incredulous eye-contact. Instead, Peter was refusing to meet his gaze, and he looked like he was blushing or something. Man, Harley had definitely made their friendship super weird. Goddamnit. 

Giving up, he turned back to his dad. “What do you mean?” Harley asked flatly. 

“I don’t know, what do teens do on dates these days? Dance with each other? Chat and giggle? Eat?” He shrugged. “I feel like that’s not too far off from how you two act anyways, so just be normal and don’t go too far off from each other. Buddy system.” 

“Um, are you sure there’s no other options?” Peter asked, still not quite looking Harley in the eye. 

“Unless you can think of something in the next five minutes that covers all our bases just as well, no.” 

“It’ll be fine, right?” Harley ventured. “Just do what we usually do and hang out until the gala is over? It shouldn’t be too bad — most people there we’ll know, and the press is easy enough to fool.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, finally. “It’ll be fine.” 

-=-=-=-

“Ah, and Peter, our special exception. Obviously your responsibility is to keep the prince safe by any means necessary. There will be plenty of SHIELD agents on the grounds today, so nobody who poses a danger to the royal family should be able to get in in the first place. Still, mark down anyone who tries to suggest he leave the main ballroom, and so on, you know emergency protocol.”

“Yes, Happy,” Peter answered. Many of the palace guards had been eyeing him since he came in, since this was his first debrief with everyone else since he had been hired. Probably wondering how a teenager had managed to become basically Prince Harley’s only protection. 

“Oh — and agent Natasha’s been assigned to look after both of you. Just in case.” 

He glanced at Natasha and gave her a little wave, to which she responded with a small nod and a smile. Natasha was one of the SHIELD agents who stayed at the palace more full-time, along with Clint, so Peter had been introduced to her already. She had figured out his identity before they even met, which made her a great sparring partner. 

“The rest of you should already know where you’re stationed, and if you’ve somehow already forgotten, ask your squad leader.” Happy gestured at them impatiently. “Now scram. There’s work to be done before tonight.”

“Hey, wanna spar for a bit before we have to go get all fancied up?” Peter jerked his head to the side, meeting Natasha’s eyes. “We can probably squeeze in an hour or two.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah sure, that sounds good.”

The two walked quietly towards the guard’s training area out in the yard. The weather was nice enough to spar outside for the day, which was always a treat. 

“So, what’s with that?” Natasha asked, nodding towards Peter’s wrist. He hadn’t even noticed that he had been absentmindedly playing with the elastic that Harley had given him. His soulmark was there too, seemingly nuzzling up against his hand, and Peter hooked his fingers over his wrist before letting it drop to his side. 

“Oh, uh, Har— I mean, Prince Harley gave it to me. Yesterday afternoon after we came back from seeing the Wakandan royal family.”

“You stopped that assassination attempt.” 

“Yeah.” Peter paused. “Has everyone heard about that already, then?” 

“Nah. I was part of clean-up, along with Clint. Hogan specified that it had to be agents, so we got stuck with it.” 

One of the palace’s servants hurried up to them and tapped Natasha on the shoulder. “Agent Romanov? Director Fury is requesting your attendance for the debrief. He can’t start it until everyone is there, and you’re late.” 

“What? I just got out of the debrief.”

“My understanding is that there is a separate debriefing session for the palace guard and SHIELD agents,” she told them. 

“Tell Fury to fuck off. I already know my duties for the night, and I have training to get to.” 

The woman winced. “I’m afraid I really can’t do that, agent Romanov.”

Natasha sighed. “Fine, I’ll say it myself. Peter, wait at the training ground for me. If I’m not there in ten-ish minutes, I’ve been murdered.”

Peter giggled as Natasha was led away. 

-=-=-=-

During his time at the palace, Peter hadn’t been treated to a view of the ballroom until now. He could  _ not _ see why this wasn’t the first place Mr. Stark had shown him. Why convince him to work here with little things like a salary or employee benefits when the sheer extravagance would have probably done it?

Well, that was an exaggeration, but only a tiny one. The hall was huge, white and gold everywhere with shimmering arched crystal ceilings that revealed the night sky outside, and sparkling chandeliers that lit up the entire space with golden light despite that. There was already a crowd of nobles in the room — mostly friends of the royal family — as well the press, ready to broadcast the Starks’ entrance. 

Peter obviously wasn’t allowed to enter with Harley, not being a Stark himself, so instead he waited at the bottom of the grand staircase. It was huge and sweeping, all polished stone and smooth caramel wood, and Peter felt incredibly small standing at it’s base. He fiddled nervously with his dark red tie, and then with the teal hair elastic still around his wrist. To relieve nervous energy, he scanned the masses for anyone suspicious, as well as trying to get a feel for the environment. Everyone in the room was a guard, press, or nobility — and Peter didn’t fit neatly into any of those groups. 

Finally, music began to play, and the doors at the top of the staircase opened. 

“Crown Prince, Harley Keener-Stark” someone announced, and Harley began making his way down the stairs, with Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts a few feet behind. “His Majesty, King Anthony Edward Stark, and his betrothed, Lady Virginia Potts.”

Harley was wearing a sort of pale blue suit, and obviously it was beautiful and perfectly fitted and covered in intricate embroidery, but it was somehow not at  _ all _ the focus of his outfit. Nor was the spiky silver circlet of a crown, shiny enough to stand out while nestled in Harley’s pinned-back hair. No — that was the silky, lacy white cape that swished out behind him to just brush against the floor, so thin it was almost sheer. It was covered in blue embroidery and flowery white lace, and Harley looked  _ ethereal _ .

Peter bowed low as Harley reached the bottom of the stairs, and he felt a brush of fingers across the crown of his head. He rose, a smile on his face that only brightened when he saw Harley’s matching grin. The two stayed at the base of the stairs as the king and soon-to-be queen started the first dance. Peter felt a brush of knuckles against his own and he glanced over at Harley before letting himself reach out and lock their fingers together. Harley was watching the dance, but he gave Peter’s hand a little squeeze once he did so. 

Soon, other nobles began congregating in the center of the hall as the press stuck mostly to the sides, conducting an interview or two perhaps, but mostly keeping the atmosphere busy and the buzz of chatter in the air. Harley and Peter also left the staircase, stopping to chat with Shuri and T’Challa, and trying to avoid the press. He could feel the tangible curiosity emanating from the reporters, wondering who Peter was, to be so close with the Prince. 

Harley leaned into Peter with a laugh at something Shuri had just said, and Peter giggled too, though he didn’t hear the joke. It was nice to not be alone with the stares, at least, and Harley was lovely company to have. 

His soulmark appeared in a prickle of warmth on his sternum, and Peter touched the spot with two of his fingers. He wondered where on Harley it had just vanished off of. 

Speaking of — the prince was looking at him like he was waiting for an answer to a question. 

“Sorry, what? I just—” Peter waved a hand around, indicating his head. “Spaced out for a second. What were you saying?”

He snickered. “You know how to dance, Pete? The next song shouldn’t be too difficult, if that would suit you better.”

Peter blushed. “Oh! Sorry, I don’t really know how to dance. I took maybe one class, when I was in like fifth grade, and it was mandatory.”

“That’s fine, we still can if you want to,” Harley said. “It doesn’t have to be good, and you can lead, which might be easier.” 

“Oh,” Peter said again. “Um, sure.” 

“Here, right? I hold your hand here, your other hand goes— yeah that’s good. See, you do kind of remember! Right, and—“ Peter’s hands were sweaty, and almost definitely sticking a bit to Harley’s clothes, but the prince either didn’t notice or didn’t comment. 

That was quickly forgotten though, and Peter slowly led them around the edge of the room, Harley not mentioning when he refused to move further into the center. It was nice to chatter and not worry about anyone interrupting them — because who would, when they were obviously already occupied by dancing. Peter tried to spin Harley with a laugh, and the other boy made it far more dramatic than it had to be, swishing out his cape as he went. 

The song was fading out, and Peter glanced at Harley, the residue of a smile still playing across his face. “Do you want to go sit down or something? I just noticed that there’s suddenly food on the tables.” No answer. “Harley?”

Harley was distracted, looking off to his right. Peter followed his gaze, and — oh. Peter’s soulmark was picking over his fingers where he was holding Harley’s hand, and delicately making its way onto the back of the prince’s hand. Peter felt his heartbeat pick up, thumping in his ears and almost painful, and he glanced back at Harley’s face nervously, only to find Harley’s gaze already on him. 

“Yeah,” Harley said, eyes piercing. “Let’s sit down.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed my obligatory parkner fic of the year,,, I was gonna write the sequel to Dream of Me but I /didn’t/ so have this instead, ye people that are only here for my parkner thingz. 
> 
> Also on that note, writing parkner is pretty painful for me at this point, and while I love the community don’t keep your fingers crossed for more of this ship. I’ve moved on to other fandoms, sorry ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ that being said though I love you guys (esp you, parkner discord)!! 🌸💖🥰❤️💕💗💜


End file.
